The Lord Will Come.
Tell me the Lord will come,
That he will soon appear;
This world is not my home,
I have no treasure here.
The hope of joys that soon shall be
Is what alone can comfort me.
Tell me the Lord will come—
I love the cheering sound;
There’s hope and joy and peace
In that sweet promise found;
For then our ills, whate’er our lot,
Will all be gone, and all forgot.
Tell me the Lord will come,
’Tis music in my ears;
I would not longer roam
In this dark vale of tears,
Where tempests gather o’er our way,
And darkness hides the light of day.
Tell me the Lord will come;
In that victorious hour,
The dark and silent tomb
Must yield its gloomy power;
For he shall call his slumbering dead,
Forever from their dusty bed.
Tell me the Lord will come,
He whom our souls do love,
To take his exiles home
To their own land above:
In those bright mansions of the blest,
Is where alone our souls can rest.
Ay, soon the Lord will come!
We are not left forlorn,
Without some cheering tone,
Some promise of the morn;
Some token from our absent Friend,
That soon our pilgrimage will end.
Ay, soon the Lord will come!
He will not suffer long
The triumph of our foes,
The reign of sin and wrong.
With courage then still breast the storm,
For God has spoken and will perform.
Yea, soon the Lord will come,
And glad deliverance bring,
And crown with lasting joy
All who have honored him.
When heaven and earth abashed shall flee
The glories of his majesty.